I've bumped into at least three people in town who all insist 'Winter's Bone' is about them.

Ree, brunette and sixteen, with milk skin and abrupt green eyes, stood bare-armed in a fluttering yellowed dress, face to the wind, her cheeks reddening as if smacked and smacked again.

This is how sudden things happened that haunted forever.

Never. Never ask for what ought to be offered.

I said shut up once already, with my mouth.

The heart's in it then, spinning dreams, and torment is on the way. The heart makes dreams seem like ideas.

Pine trees with low limbs spread over fresh snow made a stronger vault for the spirit than pews and pulpits ever could.